


The Blossom Knows (or Thanks to the Flowers)

by killerjoe1995



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, First Meeting, M/M, florist Roger, silly and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerjoe1995/pseuds/killerjoe1995
Summary: Roger was positive he had saw everything, since Freddie and him had opened their little flower shop in the London's suburbs. However, this one won the first price.“How can I passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' with a bouquet?”*Or, the flower shop!AU that I just needed to write.





	The Blossom Knows (or Thanks to the Flowers)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello darlings! 
> 
> This is just a silly fic that I hope will make you laugh.   
> English is not my first language so, if there's some horrible mistake in this please let me know!

Roger was positive he had saw everything, since Freddie and him had opened their little flower shop in the London's suburbs. However, this one won the first price. 

“How can I passive-aggressively say 'fuck you' with a bouquet?” 

The guy which had entered the shop with the fury of a typhoon, slamming 50 pound on the counter and ranting that weird request, could have been Roger's age. He was clearly fed up with something – or better, someone – and his curly hair were messed up like he subjected them to an electric shock. Roger raised an eyebrow, doubtful. 

“Sorry if I seem improper, but... can't you just say so to their face? Do you want to spend money on it too? 

To Roger, it was a legitimate question. His odd client, however, answered with a barely contained growl. 

“If I could say it to their face, you think I would be here?” 

Fair enough. Roger shrugged. 

“You have a point. Come with me...” 

The blond stood up from the comfortable chair in which he was sprawled until a moment ago, and guided his client to the flower plants wall. 

“How much do you want to spend for it?” he asked as usual, even if, given the 50 pound he still had in hand... 

“How much is necessary”. 

Go figure. 

Roger took all his tools and began preparing the bouquet, all the while explaining to his client what he was doing. 

“So... you need geraniums, which means stupidity, foxgloves for insincerity, yellow carnations which says 'you've disappointed me', and orange lilies for hatred. Oh, and some meadowsweet too, which means the person you give them is useless. It's sufficiently full of loathing for you?”.

The bloke looked to the bouquet, then to Roger, then the bouquet again. Then he nodded, satisfied. Roger enveloped the flowers with a green paper, and tied it with a pink ribbon. He worked concentrated and precisely, ignoring the curious gaze of the boy in front of him.   
“Do you want a card too?” the blond asked, gesturing with the head to the card box, full of cards of all shapes and colours, that Freddie choose some time ago. Honestly there wasn't one normal, if you asked Roger. The client looked at the box dubiously, not that Roger could blame him, and with some uncertainty he took a green one shaped like a duck, quickly handing it to Roger. The blond took it on fingertips and scrunched his nose. He and Freddie had to talk, urgently. 

“Do you want to write something on it? You can do it yourself, there's the pen, or I can do it for you” Roger suggested, giving that his strange client was currently in an haze, thinking about something that the blond couldn't have guessed for save his life. The guy shook his curly head.   
“If you could do it... write only 'Brian May', please”.   
Roger nodded and set to work, his handwriting definitely improved since Freddie decided that they should offer the additional service of writing the cards in good cursive. Roger still conserved the stack of paper, which he had filled with letters and words in cursive, on his night-stand, as a remainder of the consequences if one decided to support Freddie and his crazy ideas. 

“Here you go. It's twenty pounds”. The client – Brian – give him the banknote, without a word. Roger handed him back change and receipt. 

“Thanks and come aga...”  
“How did you know it?” 

They both interrupted themselves, Roger stunned and Brian embarrassed. The curly haired man coughed sheepishly, his cheeks pink, and looked up at Roger. The blond raised his eyebrow, questioning.   
“I mean... how did you know the meaning of all those flowers? I didn't think my request was common” Brian explained himself, his gaze curious despite the embarrassment. Roger shrugged, amused.   
“No, it's surely unusual. First time happening, I reckon” he commented with a chuckle, “however, answering your question... see those books?” he asked, gesturing to the wall behind him, in which there were a line of books about botanic, medicinal herbs and at least three books about the language of flowers. Brian nodded and, to Roger's surprise, seemed even interested.   
“Well Freddie, my flatmate and colleague, made me repeat them until I nearly got sick from it. Now I know the meaning of every flower, even the most insignificant” he concluded with a shrug. Brian looked thoughtful.   
“Really? All of them?” he asked doubtful.  
“All of them” Roger confirmed and, to finish with a flourish, winked at his client. Brian blushed.   
“Daisy?”  
Roger knew a challenge when he saw one. Well, that was certain a topic in which he couldn't fail any more.   
“Innocence, purity”  
“Sunflower?”   
“Mirth, liveliness”  
“Hibis?” Roger raised an eyebrow.   
“If you're thinking about the hibiscus, it means 'precariousness of beauty'. If you were referring to the iris, the meaning is 'faith and hope'” he answered, with a naughty smirk tugging at his lips. Roger noted, satisfied, that Brian had blushed again. The curly haired boy giggled, amused.   
“Well, I would say that my knowledge about flowers stops here. Anyway, congrats, you're well prepared on the argument” he affirmed, smiling sincerely to Roger. The blond smiled back, happy to had been able to cheer him up at least a bit. Brian took his bouquet.   
“Well, it's time I go tell someone to fuck himself. Goodbye, and thanks for your help” he waved off, closing the door of the little shop after him. Roger dropped into the swivel chair with abandon. 

“I have to tell Freddie this one” he thought, amused. What a strange adventure. 

***

Brian went up the stairs, balancing his bouquet full of hatred, his leather briefcase and the groceries bag . Thanks to a miracle, he was able to open up the door without drop anything. He eyed immediately his flatmate, sprawled on the couch, with a physics book opened on his lap and notes and scribbled paper everywhere. 

“Crazy & Desperate studying?”   
The boy looked up from his page and studied Brian with indifference.  
“Found a shop in which they didn't consider you totally insane?” he remarked, ignoring the question. Brian showed his bouquet, prideful.   
“I had to visit five shops before... but look, it's perfect! It contains hate, disappointment, uselessness... probably my thesis supervisor will never know that, but at least I will have satisfied my urge” he answered, with a level of excitation that even he himself knew was kind of unhealthy.   
“You need a mandatory medical treatment” his flatmate commented plainly, and Brian rolled his eyes.   
“Try to understand me, John, I can't tell him to go fuck himself before my graduation! However, I just need to do it” he tried to explain. John raised his eyebrows.   
“No, scratch that: you need an immediate hospitalisation”.  
Brian shook his head, in spite of himself amused. Maybe John was right, and he was being an idiot. Nevertheless...  
“The boy at the shop was unfazed, you know? He's also pretty prepared, he didn't even need to consult the books” he explained, screaming from the kitchen to make himself heard. John made just an humming sound.  
“You sure that's the right meaning? Maybe he fooled you” asked John, just to make Brian doubtful and have a laugh at him. Not that the brunet really cared, to be honest.   
Brian went to the living room again, sporting a smug smirk.   
“No, he didn't! I tested him: he's really great” he remarked, satisfied. John couldn't suppress an amused chuckled, that was the stupidest remark he ever heard. No, the entire situation was was so idiotic that he couldn't even believe it.   
“You did? And he passed?” John asked, just to humour his not-so-sane friend.   
“With full marks! Even if, to be honest, with those eyes and pretty face he could say everything he wants, really...” Brian answered, dreamingly.   
To that, John could only nod, solemnly. 

***

Roger climbed the rickety stairs to the flat that shared with Freddie. He opened the door in a rush, leaving it to slam on the opposite wall. No one could ever say that Roger Taylor wasn't able to make an entrance. 

“Freddie, you can never guess what happened today!”

The black haired guy, which was currently laid back on the couch with his cat cuddled on his lap, grimaced at the loud sound. 

“If it's another client that asked for your number, darling, I should advise you that after the tenth time is not original any more...” 

Roger laughed out loud, dropping without a care his jacket on a chair and jumping, without notice, on the couch. Freddie got his legs out of the way just in time.  
“Watch it, troublemaker” he laughed, amused despite the barely avoided danger. Roger offered his winning smile, the one that usually let him get out of literally everything. Maybe his pretty face helped, too.   
“Do you want to know what happened or not?” he asked jokingly. Freddie nodded, encouraging him with a regal gesture of his hand.   
“A client asked me for a bouquet to send someone to fuck himself. Can you believe it?”. Freddie's eyebrows raised to his hairline.  
“No, I don't!” he laughed loud, waking up the kitty which, annoyed by all the noise, found himself a better place to nap. Roger shook his head.   
“I swear, it was crazy. The bloke looked so stressed, the poor soul... anyway, I should thank you. If you didn't make me study all that 'language's of flowers' books I would have been in a difficult situation” the blond chuckled.   
“What, you really made the bouquet?” Freddie asked, shocked.   
“Obviously! It was too much fun” Roger smirked, leaning back on the couch and dropping his head backward. “Besides, he seemed to really need it, I would have been sad in making him leave empty handed... he has really pretty curls, you know?” he commented absent mindedly, trying to recollect all his memories of that client which was as strange as was fascinating. Freddie put on a sly smile.   
“Oh really, pretty curls? Only those were pretty, darling?” he teased, amused. It wasn't easy to impress Roger, he had peculiar tastes in men.   
“Mmh, no, he has beautiful hands, slender. And an attractive nose. And his eyes...” Freddie stopped him there, it wasn't difficult to understand what happened.   
“My my, dear, if this isn't love at first sight I don't know what could be! Did you at least asked his name darling?” he asked excitedly, clapping his hands. Roger grinned.   
“His name is Brian, Brian May. I found out when he asked me to sign his card” the blond answered, happy to have at least a clue about that guy. The two boys stayed silent for a few seconds, both of them lost in thought.   
“Speaking of cards... Freddie, we need to have a serious talk”. 

***

One week had passed since that strange adventure and Roger, if he had to be honest with himself, couldn't stop thinking about Brian. What was, at the beginning, just a simple “who knows how it went with the bouquet”, had grown in a “maybe he's single” to a “I would like to see him again”. Honestly, in Roger's opinion, it was getting out of hand. 

“I would like a bouquet to say to a girl that she's beautiful”.  
“How can I say with flowers that I'm sorry and I love you?”.  
“A bouquet for a Confirmation, please. And, if possible, your number?” 

All request so terribly trivial (yes, the number's one too).   
Brian had ruined him. It was official. 

Roger, crouched under the counter to take the scissors, didn't heard the door opening. He pulled himself up only when he heard a hand slamming on the counter, and a request made by a voice that would be impossible, for him, to forget. 

“How can I say 'you are perpetually in my thoughts, please go on a date with me' with a bouquet?”.


End file.
